


Where Did My Head Go

by tatertotarmy



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blood, Gen, Mild Gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 02:41:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7827202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatertotarmy/pseuds/tatertotarmy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His eyes open to darkness, an infinite void that has enveloped the whole ship. With only the sparks of electricity and the purple glow of his Galra arm, he descends into the dark castle alone to discover the cause.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where Did My Head Go

Shiro opened his eyes; the ceiling of his room was enveloped in black. Small sparks of electricity – was it electricity? – flickered inside the lights, casting long shadows around it like a halo of distorted shapes and figures. They cast shadows all around him, black silhouettes of twisted spirals, broken glass, poles bent in countless ways.

He sat up, the sweat on his skin sending a haunting shiver down his spine. One spark of electricity cast its light again, and a sharp breath clawed its way down his throat. Furniture torn to pieces. His clothing torn into shreds of black. Parts of his bed were torn up. He blinked once, twice, thrice, and it wouldn’t go away. He had woken up like this once before, when he was caught in limbo between nightmare and reality. When the doors of his room melded into the bars of a prison cell, and the furniture gave way to bloodied bodies he accumulated as the Champion. Never faces he recognized. Just the blood, the wrong ways in which their bodies bent.

But it wasn’t going away. No matter how many times he blinked, the carnage remained. Which left the question…

What was going on?

In seconds he was on his feet, using the flickers of the electricity to guide him along the way. On the far side of the darkness, to the edge of how far his eyes could adjust, he saw that his doors were open. His breath hitched in his throat, barely able to even register his hand touching the light switch.

His door was never open. He always closed it, always making sure it was locked. Shiro needed his own space, his own place to feel secure. Where he could fall asleep and know that he would see the same ceiling above him.

He remembered the prison cell. The times when he never knew when someone would take him in his sleep. Sometimes, he would wake up with a weapon in his hand, seconds before a match. When there wasn’t a match, they still invaded the cell while he was too tired to move, too weak to try staying up. He would fall asleep with the small stubble of a beard and awaken freshly shaved. The second he thought his hair was too long, it would be cut while he slept. Once he woke up with a new scar on his right arm. A long, red scar perfectly cut from the back of his hand to the tip of his elbow. It burned to the touch. Now, he knew why he woke up with that. Preparation for the main experiment. All done while he couldn’t fight back. Every decision was made when he never knew it.

And now his door was open.

He didn’t hesitate to step out, activating his arm to have the purple glow light the floor. The floor of the ship didn’t fare better. Long scratches were embedded into the ground.

“Pidge?” Shiro called out, his voice weak and unsteady, “Keith…?” He moved quickly throughout the darkness of the ship, seeing only more scratches in the ground on the way to Pidge’s room. His breathing was quick, ears alert to anything but hearing nothing. Only the hum of the ship that always helped him sleep. And that paired with nothing made him afraid.

Pidge’s room was open too.

Pidge’s door was never open.

“Pidge?” he called again, louder this time, booming over the hum. He ran inside, his right shoulder beginning to ache. A rough grunt escaped his mouth as he forced his mechanical arm up to light up the room.

It was worse than his.

Broken inventions littered the room, collected in piles smashed into incoherent pieces. Pidge’s computer was split in half, as if kicked in by someone or something. Shiro was shaking now, as he stepped over everything on the ground: keys from a keyboard, the shattered shards of a screen, wires that still flickered blue light, parts of a miniature robot that looked similar to Rover, and scraps of clothing. However, Shiro stopped dead in his tracks when he saw something on the bed.

The photograph of Pidge and her brother, torn into fourths. And Pidge was nowhere to be found.

“Pidge!” Shiro yelled desperately, looking around with his arm at the ready.

No answer.

He ran away, breathing growing quicker and mind running as fast as it could process. He found Hunk’s room in shambles, Keith’s completely destroyed with the bed snapped in half, and Lance’s in similar condition. Only none of them were to be found. Only darkness met his eyes. Darkness and destruction as the hum ran loud in his ears, taunting him.

_you can't really protect them, can you_

Sweat ran down his skin, some beads gathering on the slight indent of the scar over his nose. He was panicking. He would blink and he would be on Kerberus, floating helplessly towards the ship with no way to save his crewmembers. Blink again and he would think of Matt lying on the ground as he was dragged away, blood pooling under his knee.

He couldn’t take it. He fell to his knees, face buried in his hands – one metal and unfeeling, the other his own palm, so calloused that could barely feel anything anymore. He could barely choke out a breath of air, content to let it pool up in his lungs. But finally, after a few moments, his fists curled up and he let the air fall out of his mouth. He couldn’t afford to do this. Shiro was supposed to be the leader of Voltron. He couldn’t act like this. He could never be like this, or else the worst could happen.

Giving himself a light slap on the face to speed up a descent to reality, he trudged on through the darkness. 

He only passed by Allura’s room, afraid to see the exact same sight through her opened door. In the edges of the door, he could see multiple scratch marks of someone clawing the door open.

He felt sick. He kept walking.

_of course, what would you expect from a monster like you?_

In an instant, Shiro was tense, breathing quickly as the purple glow of his arm cut through the darkness. Nobody was there. 

Sendak was gone. Flown somewhere in deep space. He had done it. The talking had been the ship that time, as he was told, but the corruption was gone. It had all been wiped out of the systems.

_corruption still lies in here, champion_

“Who are you?” Shiro yelled, turning every way but seeing nothing but the purple glow of his arm, “What have you done? Show yourself!” He was trying to keep calm, but he was reminded of that moment. The voice of Sendak torturing him beside the cryo pod. He could feel his heart beat loud enough to shake his core, make the shakes in his skin rumble into earthquakes. 

_what have you done, champion?_

“Damn it! Don’t try that!” Shiro was running again, trying to find the voice, “Where are the other paladins? What did you do to them?”

_what did you do, paladin?_

His bare foot hit water, and he paused to cast his glow on the floor again. It was red.

Blood.

He could barely breathe, “Guys?” Desperation lined his voice, taking hesitant, disgusted steps through shallow puddles of red that led the way to the main chambers of the castle. The second he entered, the lights turned on. Shiro took a look around the room and felt bile crawl up his throat.

He found them.

Faces masked by long shadows, limbs pulled in the wrong directions, cuts in vital areas and punctures in non-vital, bruises lining the skin. All piled up like how the Galra disposed of the losers of the arena. 

He fell to his knees, puking until he was heaving air. He failed. He failed and there was nothing he could do. Pidge was supposed to find her family. He was supposed to protect her until they were reunited. He was supposed to protect all of them.

_all of this is thanks to you, champion_

A growl escaped his throat, fierce as he snapped to his feet, striking the area behind him so far that his fist went through the ship’s metal. Tears streamed down his face now, but he could only feel hate. Who was the bastard who did this?

_you did, champion_

“Liar!” Shiro screamed, running across the room to where he thought the voice came from. Nobody was there. He felt his legs lessen in pace, and he collapsed to his knees again.

_poor soul. you thought you still had free will, didn’t you?_

He reached up to touch his face. Cleanly shaven. He began trembling.

No.

No. No. No. No. No.

_you’ve never had it to begin with. everything of yours belongs to us_

His eyes focused down on his human arm, where a long cut was on his palm. There wasn’t any blood. He reached down, checking the wound.

He didn’t feel it.

Underneath his skin were wires and lights.

“No…” Shiro whispered, pulling skin and only seeing circuits. Pulling up his shirt to see skin replaced with plates. No. When did that happen? Where was his body? If that happened, then…

The voice began to laugh.

Shiro felt more tears on his face as he dug into his human arm, trying to find humanity yet finding robotics, programs to however the Galra wanted them to. He was breathing quickly, mind going completely white as his eyes went from the circuits to the pile in the middle of the room to the blood that lined his legs and crusted beneath his fingertips. What had he done? Oh god, what had he done?

_shiro?_

He was desperate, clawing away like taking the circuits out would tear the Galra inside of him. But it was like a parasite. Reforming the machinery again and again. He would never get it out. He would never be free but did he deserve it after this? Everything was over and he wouldn’t ever be free. All that awaited him were experiments, waking up to shaved faces, life hazily in and out of the arena, and death. If that was all that awaited him, he would rather die. Die to atone for everything he had done.

“Shiro!”

There was a strong grip on his shoulder, a tremble of a palm over his muscles. He closed his eyes, and when they opened he saw red. His own robotic arm scratching into his human one, bleeding heavily from the injuries. As the fog on his mind began to fade, he began to feel the pain rush through his brain. Through it all, he felt shaking breaths behind him. He could only look hazily up, taking in the clean floors of the main room of the castle.

“Shiro, can you hear me?”

His muscles tensed at the voice, as if he were going to be lashed out at, “Y-Yea, Pidge.”

She walked around him, and he could see the fear that wracked her entire body. Her skin was pale with a shimmer of sweat on her forehead, eyes wide open, her pretend glasses long since abandoned, and her muscles stiff, body language unsure of what to do.

She was alive.

He couldn’t help but feel happy.

“S-Shiro…I heard you while I was working on something,” she spoke, kneeling down and keeping her distance from him, “What…is this?” Pidge avoided looking down at the scratches on his arm. He didn’t blame her. Kids as young as her didn’t deserve to see things like this. 

“It’s nothing,” he spoke, “Nothing I can’t handle.” He slowly began to stand, his legs still shaky. 

Pidge rose with him, eyebrows furrowed, “No, it isn’t! What’s wrong, Shiro? You always act so tough, but this isn’t something I can let go!”

“Katie…” he reached forward and patted her hair with his metal arm. He couldn’t feel it, but still it was a clue that she was real. This was real…and that had been a nightmare. A shiver went down his spine. That one was too real. He couldn’t believe it had resulted in him actually walking around the castle. What if he had hurt someone? Hurt Pidge if he had thought she was someone else?

“Don’t Katie me, Shiro!” Pidge shoved his metal hand off of her, “No secrets between teammates! We need to know how to help! I don’t want…” Her voice faded as she looked at the blood on his arm. He frowned, hiding the arm behind his back, trying not to flinch through all the pain.

“I know, and I’m sorry,” Shiro paused, looking down at the small pool of blood that had formed where he had crouched over – in the corner of his eye he could see places where he had punched the castle walls, “I’m not up for it tonight, though. Go get some sleep. I’ll…get everyone in the morning.”

Pidge didn’t seem too pleased with that answer, but decided not to protest, “Fine. If you don’t, I’ll bring it up myself. I don’t want you to suffer like this, Shiro. Not after what you’ve done for all of us.” She looked sad, but turned away to walk in the direction of her room.

Shiro sighed, looking down at his injured arm. He could still picture the circuits beneath a fake layer of skin. It was so lifelike, worse than other nightmares before it. And this one wasn’t even a memory.

He sat back down, running his fake hand through his hair and wiping the sweat from his face.

What was wrong with him?


End file.
